


With Our Voices Raised

by Anonymous



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bullying, Canon Disabled Character, Charles is old for his age, Erik is a darling, Homophobia, Kid Fic, M/M, Preteen, choir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preteen choir!fic. Erik's synagogue teams up with Charles' church for the multicultural festival. Erik hates the festival and he's prepared to hate Charles, but as it turns out, his singing partner might not be so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, to be honest, I've refrained from writing Charles as a disabled character for fear that I'd somehow mess up and offend someone. I think this is probably an irrational fear, since I'm not planning on writing anything negative or controversial, but nevertheless, if at any point I do offend someone, let me know (gently, please!) and I'll correct my mistakes.

“But Mama, I feel sick,” Erik complained from the back seat. His mother glanced in the rear-view and rolled her eyes at him.

“You were just fine yesterday when you went to Janos’ house, boychik. You’ll do fine. Just take a deep breath.”

Erik said nothing, opting to stare out the window instead. He’d been dreading this day for weeks. The annual multicultural festival had always annoyed him with its obnoxious “It’s a Small World” brand of cheer, but this year was even worse because he was going to have to be part of it. His temple had agreed to team up with the local Catholic church to provide music, and to top it off, they’d decided to combine the children’s choruses for the opening. Erik liked everything about his choir, from the smell of the classroom where they usually practiced to the complex melodies and Hebrew words that he didn’t usually understand. He didn’t want it corrupted by the festival’s phony nature.

            To make matters worse, he was going to have to sing with _Charles Xavier_. Cantor Friedman had been _very_ emphatic in telling Erik how well he and Charles were going to get along, which had only succeeded in confirming his suspicions that Charles must be a real brat. After all, it wasn’t as if Erik was a troublemaker who needed to be reminded to play nice with the boys from the church. He was perfectly happy to sing with the children from the synagogue as long as they left him alone and knew not to disturb him during breaks, and he didn’t see why things should be any different with this Charles kid.

            Apparently, everyone else felt differently though, because it wasn’t just Cantor Freidman who was singing his praises. Every adult involved with the festival seemed to feel a compulsive need to tell Erik how great Charles was. From what everyone had been telling him, Erik had gathered enough information about Charles to thoroughly loathe him. Charles Francis Xavier (whose name alone was stuffy and irritating) was some kind of child prodigy and was in the seventh grade at some prestigious private school even though he was only ten years old. The adults all described him as “charming,” “polite,” “enthusiastic,” and “sweet.” Erik was sure that this actually meant that Charles was a spoiled suck-up who was used to being able to get away with absolutely anything.

            When the car stopped, Erik stayed perfectly still, as though maybe he could convince his mother to forget about dropping him off as long as she didn’t sense any movement. No such luck.

            “Erik, stop brooding and get out of the car.”

            “I’m not—”

“Erik.” Edie was using the voice that said, ‘I love you, but I’m very tired, and if you keep this up, I _will_ get up and drag you in there myself,’ and that really didn’t leave much room for argument.

“Okay, alright, I’m going.”

“Have a good time, honey. And be good, okay?”

            “Yeah, right,” Erik muttered under his breath. He waved goodbye, then slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed up the stairs to the church. It still seemed wrong to him that they had to practice in the church, even though the cantor had tried to explain to him that they were only using it because it was larger than the synagogue. Erik was suspicious of this excuse. They really ought to be meeting in a neutral space, after all.

            When he opened the door, however, he could understand the point about space. It was a large group of children, and there were definitely too many of them to fit comfortably on the bimah. Erik shrank back a bit, looking over all the unfamiliar faces. Maybe he could sneak away and just spend the whole evening reading in the courtyard. It was possible that everyone would be so busy that they wouldn’t notice his absence, wasn’t it? Probably not, but he could at least give it a shot. One of the kids from his temple waved at him, though, which meant that he’d missed his chance. Damn.

            “Erik,” Cantor Friedman called to him, “come meet Charles!” Her voice was just a note too bright, and it grated in his ears. She was a nice enough lady, and Erik appreciated that she put in the effort to run the choir, but sometimes she was just as frustrating as everyone else. Erik just wanted to turn and walk away, but his mother had said to be good, so he obeyed, counting five deep breaths as he came to stand by her side. He kept his eyes down, hoping to make it clear that he wasn’t interested in interacting any more than he had to. She put a hand on his shoulder, as if to anchor him to the spot.

            “Say hello, Erik,” she urged. Two deep breaths, and then two more.

            “Hello.”

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Erik.” Right away, Erik noticed two things: one, that the other boy had an English accent, and two, that the voice was coming from point lower to the ground than he had expected. Hesitantly, he looked up to examine Charles. The boy had a freckled face, blue eyes, a dark mop of hair, and—oh, he was seated in a wheelchair. That explained the height, then, and maybe why everyone seemed so desperate for Erik to like him. Adults always seemed to have a special weepy fondness for kids who were sick or disabled. Strange, since they didn’t seem to be especially fond of other adults who shared the same qualities.

            Charles was looking at him with his head cocked slightly to the side, and a knowing little smile on his face. “You won’t shake, then?” Erik didn’t like shaking hands, but he took Charles’, and was relieved to find that at least the boy didn’t shake like a total brat. His grip was firm, but not tight enough to be uncomfortable. As if he could sense Erik’s discomfort with being observed, Charles turned to the cantor and remarked, “I was talking with Emma earlier, and I think she had an idea you might like. She’s the taller blond one in that group by the corner.” The cantor smiled at him and excused herself, leaving Erik alone with Charles.

            “Thanks for getting rid of her.”

            Charles gave him a sly smile. “Well, Emma really did have a good idea. And I want to keep her away from my sister, Raven. Emma’s great, but she’s kind of a bad influence.”

            “Has anyone ever told you that you talk like an old man?”

            “Yeah, but I can’t help it. It’s just how I am. Bring over a chair.”

Erik did, without hesitation. There was something about Charles’ tone that just made him want to cooperate. An uncomfortable silence settled over them as Erik tried to figure out what to say. He’d never been any good at starting conversations with other kids, and Charles clearly wasn’t much the other kids anyway. Everything about him, from his speech to his expressions, seemed slightly wrong for a ten-year-old boy.

            “Nice sweater,” Erik attempted to say without sarcasm. It _was_ a nice shade of blue, but it looked like the kind of thing that belonged in a prep school uniform instead of a child’s wardrobe.

            “Thanks. Raven says it brings out my eyes… She also said it was too fancy, but I wanted to look my best to meet everybody today.” Erik glanced at Charles’ chair, and the other boy must have noticed because his smile changed subtly and he continued, “You can ask. Everybody does.”

            “Sorry.”

            “It’s okay. Honestly, I’d just rather have people ask me how it happened and get it over with. The weird looks are harder to deal with.”

            Erik shook his head stubbornly. “I won’t ask. It doesn’t matter. It’s just how you are, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation.” To his surprise, Charles laughed. “What?” Erik snapped. “Did I say something wrong?”

            “No, no, you’re right. It’s just that you’re the first kid to say that to me. Grown-ups say things like that, but they’re just trying to be nice. You actually mean it, though.”

            “How do you know?”

            “I’m good at reading people. When you said I didn’t owe anyone an explanation, you were really mad. I’m guessing it’s something you can relate to.”

            “Yeah, it is.” Erik had been remembering an incident the previous year, when he’d confided in Sebastian that he’d had a little crush on Janos. Sebastian’s face had gone completely still, and then he’d started with the questions: ‘But didn’t you like Magda last year? So how did you start liking boys all of a sudden? Did you ever like me? You better not have watched me changing!’ Erik had refused to speak to Sebastian after that. By the next week, rumors had started up around the school, and some of his classmates had begun to give him strange looks.

            “It’s alright, my friend.” When Charles rested a hand on Erik’s shoulder, it felt very different from when the cantor had done it.

            “‘My friend?’ Really?”

            This time, it didn’t bother him when Charles laughed. “I think we’re going to be great friends!”

            Strangely, Erik found himself thinking that they just might.


	2. Chapter 2

            A few weeks later, on Tuesday night, Erik was sitting on his bed, cursing his algebra homework, when the phone rang. Generally Erik just let it go to voice mail if his mother didn’t pick it up, but he was glad to have an excuse to take a break from solving quadratic equations.

            “Hello?”

            “Erik? It’s Charles.”

            “Yeah, I can tell.” Erik rolled his eyes and sprawled back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t have a lot of friends with English accents.” Or a lot of friends at all, come to that, but he wasn’t about to say as much.

            “Have you thought about what you want to sing for the fest? We can do pretty much anything as long as it fits the general theme.”

            At this point, most of the other kids had already started rehearsing, but Charles and Erik had spent the last two meetings talking about almost everything _but_ their song. Erik now knew that Charles lived with his mother, stepsister, stepfather, and stepbrother. He also knew that Charles had skipped second grade and fourth grade, and that his favorite color was yellow. However, Erik still had no idea what they were going to sing for the festival.

            “We’ll never get away with singing something that’s actually any good,” Erik huffed. “They just want us to something cheesy about how everyone can get along and be happy together. The whole thing’s a joke.”

            “There’s nothing wrong with people getting along,” Charles protested. “Aren’t you happier when you’re getting along with everybody?”

            “I never get along with _everybody_ , Charles. Some people are just assholes.”

            “Nobody’s _just_ an asshole,” Charles said sternly, but Erik was too busy laughing to hear the rest of Charles’ speech. “What’s so funny? Erik! Why are you laughing at me?”

            “I’m not laughing at you,” Erik choked out, “it’s just really funny to hear you say ‘asshole.’ You pronounce it all weird.”

            “Weird _ly_ ,” Charles corrected, but there was a smile in his voice.

            “I haven’t come up with anything good for us to sing, anyway.”

            “I was going to suggest All You Need Is Love by The Beatles, but—”

            Erik interrupted him with a groan. “No way!”

            “I knew you’d say that. Here Comes The Sun?”

            “Now you’re just torturing me for the hell of it!”

            “Maybe a little. No Beatles?”

            “No Beatles.”

            “Well, what kind of music do you like to listen to? Maybe a band you like has a song we could use.”

            Erik thought of his iPod, filled mostly with heavy metal albums and the occasional moody alt/rock song. “I don’t think so. They’re not very… Touchy-feely.” Erik was almost sure that Charles was rolling his eyes now.

            “Just keep thinking about it. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

            “Maybe.”

            After a moment, Charles took a breath and asked hesitantly, “What you said the day we met… About not needing to explain, remember? I want to know what you were thinking about.” As if he could somehow sense Erik’s tension through the phone, he continued, “I know it’s a big thing to ask for. You don’t have to tell me or anything, but… Just if you ever feel like talking about it…”

            “It’s just not something I talk to everyone about, you know?”

            “I get it. You don’t really trust people much, do you?”

            Erik wished he could see Charles’ face. It might have given him some kind of clue as to what Charles was getting at. Why was he asking about this all of a sudden? What did he want?

            “I guess not. Never had any reason to.”

            Erik was fairly certain that Charles’ silence was more unnerving than any possible retort could have been. If the younger boy would just say something, Erik might have some idea what he was dealing with. Charles was so damn frustrating! He didn’t act like any kid Erik had ever met, but he didn’t act like an adult, either. Erik never had a decent point of reference to hold Charles against, so he remained a complete mystery.

            “You think I’m weird, don’t you?” Charles asked. His voice remained even: not hurt or angry, not even truly curious. He asked as though it was a mere formality and he already knew the truth. And he asked as though that didn’t bother him even the littlest bit.

            “Well yeah. I keep forgetting that you’re only ten, for one thing. Most ten-year-olds I know are complete babies. And you ask too many questions.” _And you know too much,_ he continued in the privacy of his own head.

            “I’m glad you don’t think I’m a baby.”

            “It really doesn’t bother you that I think you’re weird?”

            “Nope. I know everyone thinks so, but you’re the only one who’ll say it. I like that.”

            Erik’s hands suddenly felt hot and sweaty, and he rubbed them on the knees of his jeans. “That’s what I mean,” he said. “You’re a real freak, Charles. Nobody says that kind of stuff.”

            “I’m not a freak; I’m a genius. There’s a difference.”

            “You’re a brat.”

            “You’re a grump.”

            “No I’m not.”

            “Yes you are! You’re a gloomy old man.”

            “I’m not the one who wears frumpy sweaters.”

            “Don’t bring my sweaters into this!”

            They both came to the realization that they were being completely ridiculous at the same time, and they collapsed in a mutual fit of laughter. Well, Erik insisted it was laughter. Charles protested that Erik had definitely been giggling.

            From the other side of the phone, Erik heard a little girl’s voice saying something that sounded like, “Come on, Kurt’s head’s gonna explode.”

            “What’s going on over there?”

            “Raven says I have to go eat dinner. Her father doesn’t like it when we keep him waiting. I’ll talk to you soon, though.” There was a thump and a distant “ok, I’m going! Hang on!” and then silence came through over the line.

            Erik sat up in his bed and thought about how damn cute Charles was and almost felt a little guilty about it. Almost. Mostly he just wished he’d asked Charles to help him with his math problems.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look who's back from the dead! I can't promise updates will be anything approaching regular, but I'll certainly work on this when I can, and I'm definitely not giving up on it.

At the next meeting, Edie pulled into a parking space rather than just dropping Erik off in front of the stairs. When Erik shot her a puzzled look, she just shrugged a little too casually and said “I thought you could introduce me to your new friend. I want to see who my little boy’s always talking to on the phone.”

Erik rolled his eyes. None of the other kids his age came in with their parents. He was going to stick out even more than usual.

“ _Mo-om_ ,” he whined, the universal teenage expression of embarrassment.

“You’ve even been up talking past your bedtime,” Edie noted pointedly as she slotted two coins into the parking meter.

“I’m too old for a bedtime anyway,” Erik argued. “I’ll be in high school in two years.”

“Tell you what, if you keep your grades up and make sure to get enough sleep, I’ll think about it. If I keep having to pry you out of bed in the morning, though, the rules are staying the same.”

“Deal.”

“Now are you going to introduce me to your friend or not?”

“Ok,” Erik grudgingly agreed.

When they entered the church, Charles was attempting to hold on to something in his lap that might have been a little blond girl, an octopus, or some strange hybrid of the two.

“Hold still!” he ordered. “You have leaves in your hair.”

“I don’t care,” the squirming creature protested. “Lemme go! I wanna play with Hank!”

“Just hold on a tick. Did you even brush your hair today? It’s all tangly!”

The blond thing proceeded to swish its hair in his face, very nearly decking him in the nose with the back of its head.

“Charles?” Erik asked, a little uncertainly.

Charles’ face emerged from behind the mass of hair to grace Erik with a grin. “I was wondering when you’d get here!”

“I’m not late.”

A little pink crept into the younger boy’s cheeks.

“Maybe I thought you’d get here earlier.” It was a pretty illogical comeback, Erik knew, but Charles said it with such certainty that he almost didn’t notice.

“My mom came with me today. She wanted to meet you. Mom, this is Charles.”

By this point, the blond thing had escaped from Charles’ lap, and was now standing beside him with its hands clasped behind its back in a rather poor semblance of propriety.

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Lehnsherr,” Charles said. “This,” he continued, gesturing to the blond thing, “Is my sister, Raven. She doesn’t usually have half a tree on her head, but today she does. Raven, this is my friend Erik and his mum.”

“You’ve got a good look,” Erik offered, gesturing to the foliage in the girl’s hair. “Very… daring.”

“See! He likes it,” Raven shot back, before sticking her tongue out at Charles.

“You can keep it like that if you want, but Kurt isn’t going to be happy,” Charles warned.

“I’ll fix it before we go. I wanna play with Hank now. Can I, pleeeease?”

“That’s ‘may I,’ Raven.”

Raven wrinkled her nose at her stepbrother. “Cha-arles,” she whined. Charles raised an eyebrow at her. “Fine. _May_ I please go and play now?”

“Go on.”

The girl dashed away only to leap up on her friend’s back, shrieking delightedly as he stumbled forward and nearly crashed into the wall.

“Well you certainly have your hands full,” Edie remarked, clearly biting back a grin.

“She keeps things interesting for me,” Charles agreed. “I think I’d be very bored without her.”

“I know what you mean,” Edie said, ruffling Erik’s hair.

“Mom, stop it!” he hissed. Why did she always have to embarrass him in public?

“Alright, I get the picture. I’ll give you your space. Have a good time.”

As Erik endured a squeezing hand on his shoulder, he thought he saw a frown flicker over Charles’ face, but then warm-ups started, and he didn’t think anymore about it.

\---------

When they were done with the day’s vocal exercises, they split off into their respective groups. The younger children were practicing the world’s most syrupy choral arrangement of Imagine, so Erik pestered Charles until his friend agreed to accompany him outdoors.

“I can’t stand that song!” Erik exclaimed, rolling his eyes. He was leaning with his back against one of the trees in the courtyard, arms crossed.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s a perfectly good song. Don’t tell me you don’t like John Lennon.”

“It’s not a ‘perfectly good song.’ It’s overused and obnoxious. And the lyrics are ridiculous.”  
“What’s wrong with the lyrics? They’ve inspired a lot of people, including me.” Charles had an eyebrow quirked and he was frowning in that way that made his chin stick out.

“’Imagine there’s no countries?’ You hate mistakes in grammar. That has to annoy you.”

“Artistic license,” Charles argued. “It’s ok if it’s in a song, and ‘imagine there are no countries’ wouldn’t fit in the line.” Still, his lips thinned tellingly.

“Fine, but then ‘it isn’t hard to do?’ What, he’s figured out how the world would work without boundaries? Would there be one person who ruled the whole world, then? Would one country occupy all the other ones, or is he assuming everyone in the whole world would agree to give up their national heritage in order to form some kind of worldwide state? It just wouldn’t work, even if the whole world was fine with it. There wouldn’t be any practical way to run a country that big.”

“You’re assuming the whole world would be one country, but the point was for countries not to exist, so that’s a totally different argument.”

“So it would be anarchy, then? How long do you think that would really last? There are always going to be people who’ll try to seize power. What happens when those people start gathering weapons and armies, and everyone else is completely unprepared?”

“Well…”

“Anyway, the fact that we’re talking about it at all proves my point. Imagining countries didn’t exist _is_ hard to do, so the lyrics are wrong. It’s stupid.”

“It’s just a song, Erik. And it’s a good song, with a good message. Do you have to be so critical of everything all the time?”

“Yes, I do.”

There was an uncomfortable period of silence while each waited for the other to be the first to speak. Charles had his lips set in a frown, and Erik found himself shuffling from foot to foot. He was starting to feel a little bit guilty for insulting a song that Charles clearly liked, even if it was beyond corny. That didn’t make any sense though. It wasn’t like he’d insulted _Charles_ , so there was no reason for the boy to be looking so downhearted. Normally, Erik would have just kept his mouth closed and waited, but the longer the silence lasted, the more discouraged Charles looked, so in this case a change of topic seemed like the best idea.

“Does your stepbrother sing too, or is it just you and Raven?”

“Cain would much rather throw balls around or hit things,” Charles said disdainfully.

“You don’t get along then?”

“Not a bit. Different interests, I guess.” Something about the way Charles said it seemed off to Erik.

“What else?” And ok, this clearly hadn’t been a good topic to change to, but Charles was trying not to say something and Erik was going to find out what it was.

“What else would there be?”

Erik raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “I know you’re the one who’s good with people, but even I can tell that there’s _something_.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just…” He gestured wildly, as if the courtyard could explain for him. “It’s just that he’s a complete brute. A horrible, stupid, mean—What?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything bad about anyone before.”

“No, I…” Charles lowered his eyes, and Erik realized that he’d never seen the boy look anything less than completely confident until now. Erik moved to stand closer to him, like maybe that would make everything better somehow.

“Hey, it’s ok. You can get mad, you know.”

“I shouldn’t.” Stubborn as ever, then. It was good to know that the Charles he’d come to know was still in there.

“Everyone does. You may be a genius, but you’re still a person.”

Charles’ eyes snapped up to meet Erik’s, and they were just as bright as ever, but sharper than they’d ever been before.

“Not that kind of person. I’m never going to be that kind of person.”

“What kind of person? You’re not making sense.”

“If I talk about him like that, I’m no better than he is. And I have to be better.”

“Charles…” Erik knelt in front of him, trying to decipher the expression on his face.

“I get that you don’t always agree with me, but there are some things—”

“Does he bully you?”

“Not much.”

“So he does, then.” Erik wanted to find this Cain and make him very, very sorry.

“Let it go,” Charles said, gentle but firm, like usual.

“Just tell me one more thing. Does he hurt you?”

“He’d never get away with it,” Charles answered wryly. “Even Cain wouldn’t hit a cripple.”

Erik’s fists clenched reflexively. “Don’t call yourself that.”

“What?”

“Don’t call yourself that. Not unless you’re reclaiming it and spitting it back in his face. Don’t let him define you with a slur.”

“Erik…”

“I mean it. You’re a hundred times smarter and stronger—a hundred times _better_ than he’ll ever be. And being angry at him won’t change that. You’re right to be angry.”

“Erik.” Charles grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. “You’re ranting.” Erik opened his mouth to protest, but when he saw the amused quirk to Charles’ lips, he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’ll stop, but I’m still not singing Imagine. Ever.”

“Ok,” Charles laughed. “Come on, let’s move over by the stairs. You can’t be very comfortable like that.”

They did move and they stayed in the courtyard, just sitting together and enjoying being close to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note so no one kills me with sticks: I do get that Erik (as a non-disabled person) doesn't have the right to tell Charles (as a disabled person) what he can or can't call himself, but I felt like it was how he would react in this situation. After all, he's a 12-year-old in this story, and even the most well-meaning preteens often fail to grasp the subtler points of social justice. As for why Charles doesn't point this out to him, I feel like that would be out of character as well. It seems to me that 10-year-old Charles would be more struck by the fact that Erik cares so much than by Erik's error in judgement. After all, one of Charles' main traits is that he nearly always sees the best in people. If this explanation is unsatisfactory or in error, please let me know as gently as you're able. I'm best able to learn when I'm not in panic mode, and due to my own disability (general and social anxiety disorders) I'm frankly terrified of conflict.
> 
> Also: This chapter was unbeta'd, since I just really wanted to post it ASAP after such a long break. My apologies if there were any bothersome errors.


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